Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Everything After
by Jacinda
Summary: NS - he gave her more than a holiday; he gave her something to look foward to.


Thanksgiving and Christmas always manage to blur themselves together. They don't seem like the extraordinary days that everyone else believes they are. I haven't felt the significance of these days in years. These days are meant for people with families; they are meant for long road trips or flights to houses full of people that only want to be together because they love each other.

I don't even recollect the last time my family was able to rally that enthusiasm about each other. I don't even remember the last time I called my parents or my brother. I don't even know if they know where I live. I am an orphan by choice; I've been telling myself that for years. Those people don't deserve to be apart of my life; they were the integral factors that threatened to bring my life crashing down around me. I always wondered what sick people could ignore the rape of fifteen year old; they were the same people that could ignore molestation. They were the same people that accused me of asking for it; no fifteen year old 'asks' her brother's friend to rape her.

I work on all of the holidays. In our contract, it clearly states that we are supposed to work alternating nationally recognized holidays. I always ask the CSI scheduled to work if I can take their holidays. My night shift coworkers are always more than happy to offer up their holidays. Grissom has his mother, Nick has his family in Texas, Catherine has Lindsay, and Warrick has someone somewhere. I don't think they realize that I am always working on the holidays. If they do realize it, I'm sure that they don't really care. The day shift is a little less accommodating; they think that I'm in it for the money. Money will never replace the family that I wish I had. I need the work to keep me distracted.

Tonight has been a slow night. It's Thanksgiving. This year death must be taking a holiday because I have nothing. I'm catching up on all of Grissom's paperwork; he was supposed to be working tonight. He asked me kindly if I would mind taking over some administrative stuff; I was completely unaware that he meant I would play secretary for him. I was mad as hell, but it was work. It was a distraction.

Grissom of all people should have noticed that I always worked holidays. He signs my time sheets; it made me wonder if he ever knew me. I don't think he ever wanted to know me; I put myself out on the line so many times trying to gain even the weakest of his affections. He always promptly pushed me away. It hurt to be broken that many times. I wasn't even sure if he was aware of the impact his callousness had on me. I wasn't sure if he was aware that I knew what he said in the interrogation room well over six months ago. I could have given him a chance to find something beautiful in life, but his career would always mean more to him that I would. It was something I struggled to accept; I became depressed. I lost weight; I began taking sleeping pills. More than once, I accidentally mixed sleeping pills and alcohol. Those were the nights that I got the best sleep. After my DUI, I needed to abruptly change that behavior. It was hard to care about myself after so many years of wondering why I should care about myself if no one else did. I worked hard; I had the feeling that I would always be working hard to overcome that.

I put my frozen dinner in the microwave; it was my traditional Thanksgiving dinner of Southwestern beans and rice. It was only tradition on accident; I ate the same kind of frozen dinner two to three times a week. It just so happened that I normally had beans and rice on Thursdays. It was the only tradition that I had left.

"Sara, I thought you might like this. Mom sent me home with an extra pumpkin pie," Nick said as he slid a Tupperware container in front of me. He startled me; I wasn't expecting to be with anyone but myself tonight. He was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He must have made a special trip here.

"Shouldn't you still be in Texas?" I asked as I took my supper out of the microwave.

"My parents left for their cruise this morning. I guess it's cheaper to fly out on Thanksgiving than wait until the weekend. Wasn't it Grissom's turn to work?" Nick asked as he sat down next to me. Part of me was grateful for his company, but another part was embarrassed that he realized I had no where else to be for the holidays.

"He should be with his mother for the holidays," I quickly replied.

"Aren't you working for Warrick on Christmas Eve and Catherine on Christmas Day?" Nick asked. He wrinkled his forehead a little; I always loved the way he looked so pensive when he was thinking. I dropped my gaze to the table; I pushed my food around in its black plastic bowl. I had been found out; it had taken him three years, but he figured it out.

"Yeah. I'm working for them," I replied softly. I could feel my cheeks turning red.

"It's none of my business, is it?" Nick replied as he pushed my hair behind my ears. I didn't want him to see my face; I didn't want him to see that my lip was quivering. I didn't want him to see me cry. I know he wanted me to confide in him; he was the only person besides Greg that had ever worked to forge a relationship with me.

"I don't have any family to go see," I whispered softly.

"I'm sorry," Nick replied. I still hadn't looked up from the table.

"You don't need to be sorry. It's a good thing . . . it's actually a really good thing," I replied. I figured if I said it twice, I might start believing it. I knew Nick wouldn't believe it; I was always envious of his family. It seemed like every few months he was bringing in pictures of his nieces and nephews; I knew that I had two nephews, but I doubted that I would ever see them.

"You don't look like you think it's a good thing. Sara, you don't have to talk. Just enjoy your meal while I take over your paperwork for a little while."

He always managed to say the right things. I guess I did have something to be thankful for; I hadn't had pumpkin pie in years. I don't think I ever had homemade pumpkin pie. I was thankful for his simple kindness . . . for his presence.

Christmas Eve:

I was stuck doing Grissom's paperwork. I was beginning to think that he would save all his paperwork for the holidays. There would always be a sticky note waiting for me on my mailbox; _Sara, There's some paperwork that I need you to take care of for me. –Grissom._ I began to resent the note. I was watching the news anxiously awaiting something to come rolling my way. The only thing on the news was some stupid 'reindeer report.' The newscaster used the Doppler Radar to track the movement of Rudolf and Santa. I thought that it was just a sneaky way to get all the kids in bed, so their parents would have a chance to enjoy the holidays. I was more than willing to bet that I was right.

I unwrapped my frozen dinner . . . summer vegetables in olive oil and Italian herbs served over linguine. It didn't seem like appropriate Christmas fare, but it was all that I had in my freezer. I hadn't decided what I would bring tomorrow . . . stuffed shells or Chinese vegetables over rice. I knew that I had hours to think about it.

I was surprised to find a cookie tin sitting in my area of the refrigerator. The note was simple. _Merry Christmas, Sara. My mom always sends me too many of these every year. –N._ Inside were at least five different kinds of Christmas cookies all placed in delicate order. It made me smile; my mom had never cooked. I don't think my mother had a motherly bone in her body. Without thinking, I dialed his cell phone number. The moment that I hit the send button, I was worried that I would be interrupting his family time. I suddenly became extremely embarrassed and contemplated hanging up the phone.

"Hey, I didn't expect to be hearing from you," Nick said as he answered his phone. I could hear tons of voices in the background blending into a cacophonous roar. It made me smile, but it made me sad that I would never know what that felt like.

"I just wanted to thank you," I said. My voice cracked; I hadn't expected to be so overcome by emotion over such a simple gesture.

"Are you okay?" Nick asked.

"I just needed to thank you. I think you are the first person to give me a Christmas present in at least ten years," I replied. I hadn't expected to be so honest; I hadn't expected to cry.

"Your welcome. Are you going to be okay?" Nick asked again. I could tell by the inflection of his voice that he too was touched by my gratefulness. I wouldn't have been surprised if he was tearing up; he cried easy . . . he worked so hard to hide it.

"I should let you get going. Thank you. Merry Christmas," I said quickly. I wanted to cry in the sanctuary of Grissom's office.

"Merry Christmas, Sara," Nick replied. I hung up the phone. I never had felt so sad and so happy at the same time. I let the tears roll down my cheeks. I was saddened that this was one of the happiest Christmases that I had in a long time.

Easter:

The note is on my mailbox again. I think it's even the same note from Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. I look at it and I want to yell at Grissom. There was at least three weeks of paperwork sitting on his desk. There were few things to be thankful for; the only one I could see was that the department had recently bought a new leather desk chair for Grissom's office. I promptly found the massage control. I was determined to use that as motivation to get through the next twelve hours.

My lunch is simple; a pita stuffed with tomatoes, bean sprouts, cheese, and Caesar dressing. I tried to forget that the dressing contained anchovies; so much for being a good vegetarian today. I eased back into the chair and opened up the first case file. I liked the gentle humming the chair made as it worked the kinks out of my neck and back.

"Hey, you working again?" Nick asked. He had something hidden behind his back.

"It's actually my holiday to work . . . imagine that," I said. He laughed. Our time alone had been awkward after I called him on Christmas Eve, but Nick had taken a sincere interest in occasionally entertaining me. We went out to a few movies; we went out to breakfast more often. I knew he felt sorry for me, but I kept reassuring him that there was nothing to feel sorry for. I knew he wanted to hear my secrets, but I wasn't ready. I began to wonder if I would ever be ready. That was the appeal of a relationship with Grissom; he would never think to ask about my past. My secrets would be safe. Even being friends with Nick was a completely different story. He liked to know what I was feeling or what I was thinking. Nick liked to think that knowing that would uncomplicated me; to some degree it had.

"I thought you might like this," Nick said as he put an Easter basket on the corner of Grissom's desk, "I didn't know what religion you were . . . I hope it doesn't offend you."

"Thank you. I don't really know what religion I am . . . I don't expect you to," I replied as I sat forward to examine the basket.

"Is that thing vibrating?" Nick asked in regard to the chair. It made me laugh; he quickly pushed me out of the way to test drive it. I promptly told him that it was my chair for the next twelve hours; he pulled me on his lap. He blushed the darkest red possible; embarrassed by how forward he was. I said that it was okay. I told him that I had come to love spending the holidays with him. Without thinking, I kissed him.

"This a little weird . . . I don't even know if I can do this in Grissom's office," Nick said. He face still a deep red.

"Think of all the times he's second guessed you or pulled you off a case," I said. Nick laughed. "Doesn't that make it so much easier." He laughed. He pushed a few stray hairs out of my face.

"Aren't you evening going to ask why I'm not in Texas?" Nick asked. He hadn't bothered to move me off his lap.

"Why aren't you in Texas?" I replied humoring him. He was smiling.

"I wanted to spend at least one holiday with you," Nick said as he pulled me a little closer. He had given me so much more than just a holiday; he had given me happiness that I rarely felt. He had given me something to look forward to. For that, I would be forever thankful.


End file.
